


Moments of Warmth

by RequiemForAbsolution



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Blurb, Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble, F/M, Slice of Life, because rachel, but otherwise it's generally soft, fluff?, happier than the series warrants, something to think about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 13:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14545536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RequiemForAbsolution/pseuds/RequiemForAbsolution
Summary: All of the Animorphs are tactile, in their own way. Each one of them has something that makes them feel alive, for better or worse.





	Moments of Warmth

All of them are tactile, in their own way.

For Marco, it is the wooden frame of a well-loved photograph. It is the bounce of a basketball as it’s thrown to him, and the firm rubber under his hands. It’s the smooth plastic of a PlayStation controller, with analog sticks worn down by the hours of his thumbs on them. Though he does not admit it to himself, it is also the broad strength of his father’s shoulders when the man comes to his senses enough to realise how absent he’s been, and wraps his only son in a hug. And though he will never admit it to anyone else, it is the memory of his mother’s soft and cool hands, as she smoothed his long hair back from his sticky, sweaty forehead when he was so sick.

For Tobias, it is the sun-warmed air beneath his wings. It is the rough texture of bark as he sinks hard talons into the scarred branch of his favourite tree. It is the squirming warmth of a mouse, and his beak tearing at fragile flesh. When he is human, it is the feeling of a pencil in his hand and a smooth sketchpad on the desk. It is Rachel’s fingers entwined with his, the feeling of her heartbeat against his chest when they hold each other, the soft silk of her hair against his cheek. He does not miss the beatings; the explosions of blunt, bruising pain that spread across his skin and left purple and blue behind. But even they had their weight and their worth. Mainly, though, it is the simple happiness that he lets himself enjoy when it is the two of them circling in the sky, and though he cannot touch her, the comfort of her presence is tangible enough to him that he feels as though they are connected even then.

For Rachel, it is the rush of adrenaline and spike of heat in battle. It is hot blood running down the skin and teeth grating together in a snarl. It is the tear of vocal cords as she howls fury and terror upon her enemies. It is the wet sticky electricity of open wounds, her claws embedded in flesh, and the squishy resistance as she tears muscle and cartilage away. But it is also more peaceful things. The smooth wood of the balance beam, and her own weight as she walks along it. The rush of a hot shower, and shampoo and conditioner cleansing her scalp, and expensive sweet-smelling soap lathering on freshly clean skin. It is the delicacy and softness of cashmere, and the increasing weight of plastic bags on a long shopping trip. It is the warmth of her little sisters as they hug her before bed, and her mother’s kiss on the cheek. And yes, it is Tobias: whether it’s his feathers as she strokes them, or his tousled hair as she fists a hand in it, or the tender way that he can kiss her, even now after all of this.

For Cassie, it is the cool dampness of the morning and her boots crunching on the gravel driveway to the barn. It is the metal handle of a bucket, the soft fur of so many animals who are so wary and so helplessly dependent on her to help them recover from their wounds, and the way they trust her enough to nibble food from her fingers. It is the burn of her muscles after a hard day’s work, and the taste of good, homecooked food that her mother has made. It is her connection with nature: the rush of river water, the dewiness of grass late at night beneath the stars, the soft petals of an upturned sunflower. It is the worn, comfortable fabric of her overalls. It is also Jake: his warm, reliable strength, and the way he holds her as if she were so precious, even when she is covered in sticky compost. It is the curve of his biceps, when she places a hand on them, and feels the power underneath. It is the way he cups her cheeks, and she feels as if her world is whole.

And for Jake? It is the fur and delighted tail-wagging and dog slobber that Homer leaves over his hands when he comes home each day. It is the satisfying weight of a basketball, the texture of the orange rubber, the way it bounces so well off a smooth wooden court. It is washing the dishes, when the rest of the family are watching television in the lounge room, and feeling the soapy water and sharp utensils, and knowing he is doing something simple and wholesome and good. It is Cassie, and the roughness of her calloused fingertips, and the bumps of her cornrows on her head and the dimple in her cheek that he loves to poke at when she will let him. It is the memory of the real Tom, and how he would muss his hair lazily when he walked by, invoked every time the Yeerk does the same thing. It is the liquid grace of his tiger, the strength like steel, the soft footfalls against the harsh concrete of the city he lives in. It is the comfort of an old couch, the way he and Marco can lazily flop against each other with stomachs stuffed full of junk food, watching bad television and snorting with each other about the acting.

For all of them, it is each other. It is the breeze that touches their skin when they are assembled together in the barn. It is the shared annoyance of the sticks and stones beneath their bare feet. It is the way they feel each other in battle, and fight to defend each other to the bitter, bloody death. It is the sweaty sheets from nightmares, and the clammy hand clasped in their own, and the reek of sweat and blood and sometimes urine, and the weight of their friendship standing together in this living hell.

These are the reasons that they fight. 

 


End file.
